Aftermath
by WhimsicalShmoo
Summary: After Bella's death, Jacob is left with a choice: kill Edward and fulfill his promise, or work with the rest of the Cullens to try and keep him alive? What would Bella have wanted? AU Eventual JacobEdward ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! This is my second attempt at writing a multi-chapter story, but feel free to be harsh, just try to be smart about it. Fell free to say "your story sucks" or "this is terrible", just give a reason. And it's shounen-ai, boy love, don't like, don't read, don't review to tell me it's gross or whatever...if it's gross, why are you reading it?**

**As for updating, it really depends on my mood, but I generally do not update more than once a week, if that. **

**That's pretty much all...please review, I want toknow how you guys like it. Any suggestions are welcome. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Twilight series...this is only fan fiction. I'm not making any money sadly...could really use it for all the manga...**

* * *

_Kill me._

I had made the promise, hadn't I? To kill him when it was all over, when Bella finally died. I had promised and the event we had all feared had finally occurred. Bella, unable to withstand the rough pregnancy any longer, had been battered and bruised (however unintentionally), drained day by day of her life force, as the creature used it to grow, until she finally…she finally…

_She finally died_.

I shudder just thinking the words, nausea flooding my senses. Never again will her smile light up as I walk into the room, never again will I hear her voice, never again will I be temporarily relieved of the pain she has put me through since I first fell for her and realized she would never love me back the same way. It is permanent now. I feel frozen, absolutely stiff, dead, and_ cold _despite the fact that I still must, in reality, have a body temperature of 109.8 °F, as usual, but it sure as hell does not feel like it.

My state isn't helped by the fact that _he's_ there, crumpled on the ground in front of me, head buried in his arms, asking…no…_begging_ for me to kill him. At any other time I would have leapt at the chance to destroy the one who had stolen my Bella's heart, or any of his family of vampires that I so deeply disliked. Yes, disliked, such a weak, word is used for a reason. After working with them for several weeks, and growing to tolerate them, I can no longer truly say I _hate _any of them. Loathed, despised,andhated: they are all words of the past.

But maybe I should hate _him_, this one in front of me, because it is entirely _his_ fault that she died; _he_ was the one to implant the hideous murderous spawn inside her. The vile creature that grew up to be her killer. Even if it died after birth, too malnourished and undeveloped to survive.

However, I can't find it in myself to hate even _him_, the catalyst behind her death. Perhaps it's because he looks so broken, sobbing, entire body shaking, though there are no tears because vampires can not cry. How strange, how freakishly alien...though I can't find it in myself to give the concept more than a moment's thought at this point. But again and again, he repeats those words—_kill me, kill me_—like a possessed being intent and thinking only of death.

His family is still inside, frozen by shock, trying all they can to think of a way to bring Bella back, but there is none; the venom had not spread fast enough to save her. They will be out here soon though, to stop any intervention on my part, to stop Edward from doing what they all know he will do. A suicidal immortal. How ironic.

But what to do. I _should_ kill him, for all he's done, but…Bella wouldn't want him to die. Of course, she would never have wanted him to suffer either, as he surely must be now. If I feel this bad, it is more than likely he feels ten times worse, if such a degree of emotional pain is even possible. What would Bella have wanted? I don't know, I can't think straight. Too much is happening at once.

Maybe I should let him live. Just for now, just until I have time to think this over, time to decide his fate. I can always kill him later but…what if killing him would go against Bella's wishes? It doesn't really matter now. She's dead, sent to heaven by _his_ and _her_ monstrous _offspring_. But the dead can't be brought back to life. She'll never be among us again, and, if I kill him now, neither will he.

It's quite likely this will be my only chance, though. There's no doubt in my mind that the rest of his family will try to stop his suicide attempts. I may never get another opportunity, and her murder will be left unavenged. But he didn't know…he hadn't known when he had…that she would…that she would _die_. But does that make him innocent? Does that mean he should be able to live? I can't decide…I can't…

He's looking at me now, gazing at me with those mad shadowy eyes, the bags under them so dark he could have just been socked in both a few hours previously. "Why won't you kill me?" he asks, voice broken and shaky in so many places. I remember when he used to be so calm and composed. That façade is long gone, replaced by this burning, deranged creature, only wishing for death. He must not have been lying when he said how much she meant to him.

And he pauses for a minute, before gasping out, the pain in his voice so clear, yet no match for that in his eyes. "She would want me to die, Jacob…she wouldn't have wanted me to live on like this. She wouldn't have wanted me to suffer…such torment…" He trails off, staring at me, pleading with me to understand. "I know you want your revenge, Jacob, so kill me. Kill me, please. I'm begging you. _Please_."

Leaving him alive, though, would be a better punishment, I finally realize. His family will restrain him. He won't be able to runoff to the Volturi. Not like last time. This time he will have to suffer and pay for what he's done, what he's taken from the both of us. Eternal life would be a fate far worse than death…

"I know," he admits, the agony and desperation lacing those two words so great it's a wonder he does not die there and then of the pain, despite his immortality. It would be cruelty to leave him like this, complete wickedness. He must be suffering so greatly so deeply, worse than even I am. Maybe I really should put him out of his misery now, quickly, before he is condemned to perpetual damnation. As a last favor to Bella…as a last, and only, kind act towards the creature she had fallen so irrevocably and profoundly in love with. "Yes…please, Jacob, please…_for her_…" and I'm almost convinced, shifting to my wolf form, readying myself to strike…moving forward, teeth barred…

But my attack is intercepted by the big vampire, Emmett, as he deflects my assault. I fall back, still, glazed, watching as Esme wraps her arms around Edward and holds him to her, stroking his hair and trying to calm him though he continues to sob without tears, screaming incoherently. He tries to break away, and he does, pushing away from Esme, making a run for it, and I have half a mind to run with him and help him escape to the Volturi, his only remaining option.

But Carlisle catches him by the wrist, and Emmett is there soon after with Jasper, holding him, stopping his flight. Yet, he keeps struggling, trying to break free, pleading them to just let him go, let him die. And still he is restrained by the three, Alice, Rosalie, Esme, and I watching on in dumbfounded horror, as he doesn't give up, even under the impossible restraints. He's begging them now, asking for them to kill him, please, because they know that he's suffering, and do they want that?

Carlisle would be crying also, if vampires could do so, but he's shaking his head, and speaking to Edward in that soft gentle voice of his, trying to reason with him, trying to calm him down. And Jasper is frowning in concentration, trying to calm the frenzy of Edward's agony, struggling against the overwhelming force.

Eventually, he wins out, and Edward falls to the ground, tired, defeated, weary, and exhausted. They're all huddled around him now, trying to hug him, or speak with him, or offer any reassurance, any comfort that they can, though Jasper is slightly off to the side, silently contributing to the effort.

I watch dully, like I'm watching a movie or something, not seeing this happen with my own two eyes. Strangely detached, and alienated in this close-knit group. Minutes pass, hours maybe even, and still Edward is not placated. He's been torn up and mutilated to shreds, and the pieces will most likely never be placed back together. The pity I feel is almost tangible, and I find myself wishing I had killed him, because I understand how much he must hurt, and I know how maddening it must feel. But I missed my chance. I missed my chance, and now he has been damned to eternal hell: life without Bella, the love of his life, soul, and heart.

Leah and Seth show up sometime later, both in wolf form, nuzzling against me, even Leah, asking with their thoughts if _I'm ok_, though I know they know the answer. Seth is in pain too, Bella having been a friend of his as well. But perhaps greater is the sympathy and worry he feels for both me and Edward, his longing to help, and the secondhand hurt of the magnitude of our agony. Leah is blank, on the other hand, just blank and oddly indifferent, though I get the slight feel of remorse from her, knowing how dear Bella was to me, despite her dislike for the girl. With her and Sam and Emily…she must understand to some extent.

The vampires are moving now, carrying Edward inside, though I can't tell who is holding him exactly, or how he's doing. Tears are beginning to cloud my vision, and all I can make out are blurs of color as the sky darkens. Never again will Bella be among us, never again…

It hurts so bad to think such things. To think Edward is hurting worse than I am is frightening. And I've robbed him of his only escape, forever maybe. Until his family finally gives in, or are somehow unable to stop him, so he can make it to the Volturi without being intercepted. Or if, by some rare circumstance, I get the opportunity to kill him. I'm sorry to have broken my promise, and the guilt is almost unbearable as it amounts. Seth whines at my train of thoughts, afraid and sad, but understanding all the same. And Leah remains unaffected, staring out at the trees, still.

Wanting to spare Seth the pain of my depression and any horrid nightmares I might have, I switch back into my human form, before curling up against the house, an uncomfortable position as a human, and closing my eyes. I try to sleep, and recommend that Seth does as well, after Leah agrees to run the border for the two of us.

Seth is out like a light; his breathing soft as his fur-covered form rises and falls steadily with each breath in and out. Sighing to myself, I get as comfortable as I can before putting my gift of quick sleep to use. This, in all my years, is the first time it has ever failed me; it takes several hours for me to finally drift off into the realm of unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow. Sorry about the wait everyone. I guess I warned you, but I in no way intended for that update to take so long. My excuse...? Writer's block...laziness? Take your pick. Anyway, here's the chapter. I was really hating it until today, but hopefully you'll like it. Review please! Inspires me to update :3**

**Merry Christmas to those that celebrate it, and happy holidays to the rest!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight series or any of it's characters...**

* * *

It is the sun that wakes me up the next morning, rising at just the right angle to shine directly into my eyes. I stretch, rolling my neck to get the aches out and to get the circulation back into my limbs. The sunlight is bright and warm, though perhaps not cold would be a better description, as it's merely not frigid like most things have been since my transformation.

I look towards the house where Bella had taken up residence the last few weeks, and it is then that it hits me, that I remember the events of the previous day. Bella. Dead. _Kill me_. Gone. _Please_. No… the thoughts run through my brain rapidly and convolutedly as I try to tune them out and relax. A deep breath in, out, in, and out again, but I can still feel the tears pricking the backs of my eyes, threatening to seep forth.

I gaze around me, trying to concentrate on something, anything else. Seth's sleeping form, curled up a few feet away, captures my attention briefly—how his gray fur rises and falls with each serene breath—but it doesn't stop the thoughts, only reminding me of how upset Seth must be himself, although in sleep he shows no indication.

And then my eyes trail off on their own, into the house and the window through which I can just make out parts of the Cullen's living room. The place Bella had spent all her time until just yesterday…

Without thinking, I head for the front door, opening it without knocking, and striding in without hesitance. Sudden inexplicable anger rages through me, directed at the bloodsuckers', a burning seething _blame_ that drives me into their home, ready to yell and argue and accuse.

But as soon as I enter the house, the atmosphere puts out the flames that had risen so violently like a fire hose, and my mouth hangs open slightly, forgetting what I had been about to say. Because really, who is to blame for Bella's death? He hadn't known…she hadn't wanted the monstrosity to be destroyed. She had wanted every action leading up to her death, and _he_…they…had simply given her what she desired.

Would I have done differently? Part of me wants to say no, I wouldn't have, I wouldn't have let her kill herself, however unintentionally, and however she felt on the matter. But I know deep down that I would have done everything to make Bella happy. _Everything._ I have no reason to blame _him_, or any of the others.

I turn my gaze to the room I enter, looking around, observing. The bloodsuckers, all of them, are seated around the living room at various intervals. Somber, serious, and lost, all either concentrating on the curled form in their midst, or staring off into space, lost in thought. It is such a familiar scene, yet so overwhelmingly different. For the sobbing, broken person on the couch is not Bella. No. He is larger and paler, with hair the color of a new penny rather than Bella's rich dark chocolate sheen. But apart from physical appearance, Edward looks exactly the same as his deceased wife had in her final hours.

Suffering through unbearable agony, but trying to hide it from the world, for the sake of others. I almost smile at the thought. How utterly _Bella-ish_ he's being.

And then I notice the reactions to my entrance. The Cullens' disapproving, suspicious gazes are unnerving. Everyone, even Carlisle and Esme, are looking at me with ill-concealed distrust and almost…betrayal…

The aggression catches me off guard. Weren't we all buddy-buddy just a few hours ago? Hadn't they—for the most part—accepted me as a friend? Jasper growls and moves so that Alice is blocked from my view, and Emmett holds Rosalie tighter. Carlisle casts me a worried, apprehensive glance, and even Esme is frowning slightly, wrapping her arms around Edward protectively.

Edward. Oh. That's right. I tried to kill him last night. That's why. They think I'm here to try it again, to finish what I started. But I'm not the suicidal one.

"I'm not trying to kill Edward," I hold up my hands, offering peace, "I promise I'm not going to try anything. He asked me to…that's why. But I'm just here to…here to…" I trail off, unsure of what to say next. Why am I here? Bella is dead, _gone_; I shudder at the remembrance. There's no longer a need to protect the bloodsuckers, because the abomination is gone along with her. So why…?

And it is then that I notice the object displayed in the center of the large living room, large and rectangular and foreboding. A reminder of an event that didn't need to be brought up; it was already fresh in everyone's minds. A casket. _Bella's casket_. I can't help but be thankful that the lid is closed. Just the thought of her mangled, too pale corpse sends a wave of nausea through me.

Another muse replaces the image. There will be a funeral won't there? For everyone who had known the girl, for her friends, for Charlie…How will he take this? I knew she shouldn't have gotten his hopes up, that he would just be crushed like this, worse than before. But no real anger or annoyance comes at the error of Bella's actions. It's impossible to be upset with her now of all times. So impossible and just…wrong.

But they're still looking at me, waiting for an answer, though the antagonism has faded for the most part. My gaze falls on the only vampire that isn't looking at me. He's still shaking, so violently that it reminds me of Bella in that flimsy tent during the snowstorm. But she was shivering, freezing…vampires don't get cold. So the tremors must be of another cause.

"Is he going to be ok?" I ask without thinking, returning my attention to the rest of the gathering. A spoken answer doesn't come, but the room tenses slightly, and I can venture a guess. _We can only hope…_Uncomfortable silence settles over the assembly.

The subject of my question moves now, brushing his wrist across his eyes in a faint scrubbing motion. I lean in a bit, just to double check that there are no actual tears. There aren't…must be a leftover human reaction. His eyes are locked with mine, his too black ones with bags underneath of just a slightly lighter shade, and my own brown, which in any other scenario would have been considered dark. Again, he rubs his wrist over his eyes, discarding invisible tears. My lips twitch upwards at the uselessness of the action, but I keep from smiling, fearing it would be misinterpreted.

"I'm…I…Jacob…can I speak with you?" he whispers, so quietly I can barely make out the words. And even then I doubt my hearing, as the others' eyebrows rise in surprise at the content of his raspy articulation. He should be upset with me, angry and fuming. I hadn't killed him; I had subjected him to this eternal torture. Why couldn't I find even the slightest trace of wrath in his tone? But I nod, deciding I owe him this much.

To my surprise, he gets up, walking towards the front door and out it, not waiting for me to follow. His family tenses as he passes through the entrance, and I smile back at them as I leave. "I'll watch him, don't worry," I promise, and after a second of thought add, "And I won't try anything…I swear."

He doesn't stop just outside the house as I had expected, but keeps walking and walking, eventually breaking into a run. Afraid that he might be trying to make a run for it, I quickly change into my wolf form, sprinting after him. Leah and Seth wonder if they should help me catch him, but I decline the offer. I can handle this. Besides, if Edward manages to escape me and make it to the Volturi, all the better for him. I could uphold my promise and save him, because really, in his place, wouldn't I want the same?

Minutes pass, and still he runs, as I trace his steps, wondering where he could possibly be going. As if in answer, he stops, and I skid to a halt, taking in my surroundings as I slip into the clearing. It's a beautiful place, wide and open, deep in the forest. He's sitting off to the side, back against a tree, gazing up at the canopy of leaves, legs curled to his chest, arms crossed.

As I approach, he tenses, and I pause, pondering the action's cause, before continuing forward and sitting a comfortable distance away. The vampire's stench is stronger as a wolf, and I wince as it singes my nostrils, its sickly sweetness overpowering.

"Sorry," he whispers, a small, minute almost smile appearing in apology and slight amusement. And he hesitates, looking at the ground, then at me, then at the ground again, and so on, as if reluctant. I watch, smug amusement filling my mind at how utterly stupid he's acting. At the thought, his eyes meet mine, obvious offense clear in their murky depths, and I roll my eyes, waiting for him to get on with it.

"I…" he begins, gaze moving away once more, arms tightening across his chest, "I just…wanted to talk to you. You're the only one who can even begin to understand…you loved her, did you not?" I stare at him blankly, before rolling my eyes once more. _No duh. _He laughs, a weak, strained laugh, but resumes speaking, "I just…is there any way you could allow me to escape? Please, before my family finds out just…" And his eyes are back, locked with mine, pleading and misleadingly dry of tears. I know he would be crying if he could.

And then I think, reviewing my options. I sense Leah and (mostly) Seth's panic at Edward's proposition, but I tell them to keep from notifying the Cullens for just a moment. Just to let me think first. And reluctantly he complies, only easing his patrol closer and closer towards our current location, ready should his help be needed. Leah just scoffs, continuing her route, unaffected.

If I let Edward die, his family and Seth will be hurt. The bloodsucker winces as the images of their pain filled faces move through my mind, pulling his legs in tighter. But as far as I stand on the topic, letting him die would be a favor to Bella, keeping him alive would be torture. In his place, I would want death. At a loss, I consult Seth and Leah. Seth instantaneously vies for Edward's life to continue, but Leah pauses. A couple of minutes pass, before she answers. _Don't kill the leech_, she decides, almost regretfully, and her mind fills with an image of her little brother, devastated over the loss of yet another friend. Of course.

I look back at Edward, and he's looking away from me, fists clenched, head on his knees. I don't need to see his face to know that he's upset by the decision. Guilt floods through me and I inch forward slightly, wincing at the pungent scent. Trying not to gag on the all too overbearing smell, I nuzzle against him, trying to offer what comfort I can in this form.

Much to my surprise, he throws his arms around my neck, and buries his face in my fur, as Bella had done so many times. I start to pull away, but stop myself, succumbing to the disgusting scent, because he needs this. Though I do have to wonder why he doesn't seem bothered by how terrible I must smell to him. Her death must have made him crazier than I first believed.

His arms and face are cold, more so than Bella's ever were, and I almost shiver at the contact. It's like having ice cubes attached to my fur, minus the wetness—no tears.

After an hour or so passes, his breath starts to even and he pulls away slightly, eyes trained to left of my head, on one of his hands, still in my fur. "I'm sorry," He whispers again, and then pulls away completely, inching backwards. "I don't know what came over me I just…you remind me of Bella." And oddly enough he smiles, a real, true smile, though the undertones of agony do not lift, "she loved you so much Jacob…and she should have been yours. None of this would have happened."

And with those parting words, he gets to his feet, turning towards me once more, and thanking me. My brain is confused, but I force myself to utter a mental "you're welcome" as he takes off, back towards his house. I trail after him, slower this time. Thank you? For what? Breaking the promise, subjecting him to perpetual torture? He _must_ be insane.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys...another two months, eh? Sorry for the wait, but this is a longer chapter at least. 3,005 words :) A bit depressing, and it falls apart near the second half -in my opinion- but it's up finally. Yay. Now to work on Fading Flames...-hasn't updated in forever-

Funeral scence...be prepared...

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of it's characters.

* * *

I wake up in a bed for the first time in weeks. Finally, after nights and nights of cold cramped sleeping outside, the Cullens' offer of a spare, _real _bed finally wore me down. Yesterday was busy, sending out invitations, coping, trying to put on a strong face and get the funeral plans underway. Leading to today, a day all of us had been dreading. The day of the funeral, the day to put up fronts stronger than those of before and try to persevere, because someone would have to be strong throughout this. Someone would have to carry this through. Today, the date of Bella's funeral. Leave it to the Cullen's to organize something so quickly and efficiently, only four days—enough time for Renée to fly in—after her death. _Death_. The word still sends painful twinges through my heart.

The sheets are warm and luring, the pillow soft as a cloud underneath my head, and I burrow into it, savoring these last peaceful moments of half-sleep before I must get up and ready myself for a long day and the emotional strain it will without a doubt contain. A smell wafts into the room then, through the ever-present essence of bloodsucker, a smell which, like it or not, I've become very used to over the past days. It still stinks, it still burns, but now I can smell other things through the scent, and it's fading a bit every day, becoming a background to this terrible nightmare.

Reluctantly, I pull myself up and out if bed, running a hand over my face, through my hair, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The curtains are a-glow from the sunlight they're with holding. Briefly, I glance at the small digital clock beside the bed. _8:00_. On any other occasion I would still be fast asleep. But this isn't just any occasion, so I pull on a t-shirt over the sweats I had slept in, pull my fingers once more through my dark hair, and sluggishly make my way downstairs.

Esme smiles brightly at me over the eggs she's frying, and I try my best to smile back. The kitchen is empty, a reliving sight. On top of everything, I don't want to deal with Blondie, or the hyper one this early in the morning. But it is odd, the absence of all the other vampires, and so I ask, "Where is everyone?"

My voice sounds odd to my ears, slightly horse and just a bit quavery, though I doubt anyone else would notice. Esme doesn't, or is simply too polite to point it out, as she politely answers my question with a shrug. "Around here somewhere. Seth and Leah went home for the night after you fell asleep. They said something about picking up Charlie. Everyone else is helping with preparations...Carlisle had to go straighten something out quick at work, but he'll be back. And Edward is..." She trails off, but I can complete the sentence on my own. "He's doing better," she adds optimistically, setting a plate down in front of me, before leaving the room. The food looks delicious, as is anything Esme makes, but somehow it still tastes like ash as it passes through my lips. Dull, tasteless. I try not to gag, and finish eating. The orange juice, delicious as always, is acrid as it enters my dry throat. Perhaps this is what it's like eating human food as a vampire. I'd hate it.

It is then that I notice I'm no longer alone. Edward, clad in a too big sweatshirt and non-descript pants, is leaning on the counter, gazing off to the side blankly. His hair is too mussed, the bags under his eyes too dark, but he does look a _little _better. Just a bit. I think. " 'Sup?" I greet, getting up to put my dishes in the sink. He blinks once, his black irises following my path across the kitchen. I shift uncomfortably, rinsing the plate, before drying my hands off. He still hasn't answered.

Sighing, I walk over to him, waving a hand in front of his face. "Hello? You in there?" Again he blinks, and tracks the movement of my hand, but this time he responds with a slight nod. I can't get a good look at him, but he's still emitting that aura of sadness, despair. Something squirms inside of me. Pity? And then another visitor enters. The little psychic. _Alice_.

"Edward," she's standing beside him, hand on his arm looking worried. "I'm done decorating. We need to go get you ready now," and she smiles, before adding, "Your face looks terrible." And he only nods, before allowing himself to be lead out of the room. I sit, alone again, for a few minutes, trying to remember what Edward was like _before. _Calm, composed, content, always smiling. Nothing like how he currently is. Blank, lost, perpetually in nonexistent tears. Frowning to myself, I meander back upstairs, still lost in thought.

* * *

I scrutinize my reflection in the mirror. My hair is pulled back in a stub of a ponytail, the dark strands having lengthened just enough to do so, an inch or so above my shoulders. I had been growing it out for her. _For Bella_. My eyes are tired but not bloodshot, though I'm sure there would be bags underneath them if my skin tone weren't so dark. The suit was bought especially for me, brand new, but even still it reeks of bloodsuckers. It's black, just black, with a matching tie, and a darkish shirt underneath. I don't care enough to guess at the exact color.

My appearance is decent and I'm glad for that because I'll need all the help I can get to make it through this. I wonder how _he's_ holding up. _Him_, the bloodsucker. _Edward_.

The whole house emanates sadness, somberness. Tangible despair. No one wants to go through with these painful formalities, but it's necessary. We have to. Sighing to myself, I needlessly straighten my clothes, my hands just looking for something to do. Here we go. Time to role. Time to put on a happy face and pretend like I'm not dying on the inside.

Downstairs, the bloodsuckers are already waiting. Blondie looks snobbishly beautiful, as usual, though perhaps her usual disdain has been toned down a few notches for the occasion. _How thoughtful. _Carlisle looks composed and in control but with just enough pain showing through to betray its presence, hidden underneath, churning and waiting to be unleashed. Alice and Esme look stunning in their dark dresses, though the latter appears close to tears, and the former is disturbingly subdued. Emmet and Jasper look almost normal, almost, but there is still a hint of gloom to both of them, and I can see the pained look on Jasper's face. How depressing it must be for him, burdened with the magnitude of all this grief. Especially Edward's.

He's among the gathering, standing up straight, decked out in a black, elegant yet simplistic suit. His clothing itself is meticulously in place and free of wrinkles, perhaps too much so, making it almost unnerving, too neat. Inhuman. As usual his copper hair is mussed and disheveled in that skillful way he has, messy but looking almost purposefully so. His eyes are so dark—_dark, dark, dark_—and the bags underneath them are still visible, despite the make-up Alice seems to have applied to cover the bruise-like blotches.

How_ long_ has it been since he hunted last? Weeks, no doubt. _Isn't that dangerous?_ But thinking of him as dangerous at the moment is nearly laughable. He looks like a mess, not in regards to his appearance, but his mentality, rather. No make-up or contacts in the world could hide the distraught quality of his gaze, the incessant nonexistent tears flowing down his cheeks. It hurts to look at him, pinches something deep inside me, the way he looks so utterly lost and broken, just beneath the thin glass surface, so breakable and translucent a cover.

Just months ago, feeling sympathy for the vampire would have sickened me, but things have changed.

I have changed.

The casket is still present in the center of the room, as it has been since Bella's death, but now it is decorated for the impending funeral. Black, black cloth, the color of nightmare backgrounds and the deepest reaches of the sea, where no light ever shines, and even the most peculiar of deep sea creatures cease to exist, is draped over the coffin and splayed artfully onto the floor surrounding it. Roses of a deep, deep coal color, too dark to be natural, litter the wood floor around the receptacle, which itself is a pure white, whiter than a new snowfall, marked with silver(gold? It's hard to say) metallic designs, beautifully, though remarkably abstract in design.

The rest of the room is decorated in a similar manner, wonderfully so, ethereal in appearance, a better job than the most professional of designers could have done. But the only thing that truly registers is the blackness, so out of place in the usually bright and airy home. Death, entering and destroying the breath-taking, amazing person that Bella had been, stamping upon and destroying all these hearts that had been so happy, so light and carefree and content with the world. Why, _why_ did she have to die? She had done nothing to deserve such a terrible fate, nothing. It wasn't fair. But then again, was life ever fair?

A knock on the door startles me out of my pessimistic turn of thoughts, and I fumble to regain my composure. Will it be Charlie? My stomach churns with anxiety and anticipation. The knob turns, and in walks Seth, clad in a dark suit like every other male present, followed by Leah in a loose dark top and mid-thigh length skirt, her inky black hair pulled back into a loose half ponytail at the back of her head. Next, Sue enters with—and I flinch involuntarily in apprehension of what I'll see—Charlie at her side.

He looks ill. Not in a going-to-barf-nauseous kind of way, but in a hasn't-eaten-or-slept-in-too-long-and-filled-with-enough-upset-and-loss-to-poison-his-system kind of way. Of course, I had expected as much, but it doesn't take away from the pity that overwhelms me on the spot. When, I wonder, will I become numb to this agony? Will I ever? After long enough, one becomes numb to the burn of a fire, or the sear of a broken limb, so shouldn't this eventually dull in the same way? But this is mental, not physical, pain. Perhaps the concept doesn't apply.

But I cut my pondering off, turning to Charlie who is standing a couple of feet into the house, frozen by the room's centerpiece. His face morphs into such a desolate expression, that I don't see how it is that there are no tears streaming down his roughly shaven cheeks. He should be sobbing, broken, torn apart, _distraught_. Yet then again, Charlie was always a strong man. Perhaps he's holding back the pain and the suffering, just as Edward and myself are, and if he's strong enough to accomplish that, the tears would not be a problem. But she, Bella, must have meant so much to him. His only daughter, perhaps the closest person in the world to him after Renée took off and left him alone here in Forks.

Wordlessly, he takes my hand and shakes it firmly. I smile the best I can, though it feels as if my face might split. Briefly, he returns the effort, before moving onto Carlisle, giving him a similar greeting. But he pauses before Edward, and merely looks at his gloomy face for a minute stretch. Perhaps there's just some characteristic to the broken vampire that makes Charlie feel obligated to loosely pull the other into a awkward one-armed hug, but he does so, and Edward accepts it, returning the half-hug warmly, or as warmly as he can in his current state of mind. Yet still no words are exchanged. I feel like we're in one of those old black and white soundless movies, minus the piano music in the background. If there were a tune it would be a dirge.

The rest of the guests arrive shortly after, but I can't attach names to the majority. Vaguely I remember the blond guy that Bella and I had once gone to the movies with. His pale eyes are red-rimmed. Everyone cycles past the casket, lay their hands upon it, saying their last goodbyes. Much tears are in evidence.

The Denali coven—as Carlisle calls them—arrives eventually, and I tense. More bloodsuckers, just what I need. But now is not the time for arguments, so I let it go. Last, but not least, Renée arrives, flushed and frantic, heavy make-up in evidence. "Sorry I'm late!" she exclaims, breaking the morbid silence that has settled over the house. Eyes turn to look at her, and there are reassuring mumbles in response to her comment. She embraces Charlie first, hugging any familiar faces within minutes. When she comes to Edward, she wraps her arms around him as much as she can. "Poor dear," she whispers, as she she holds him firmly, patting his back consolingly. Her eyes are wet when she pulls away.

Now that everyone is here, the funeral rights begin. There isn't an actual priest, but Carlisle gives a nice speech, beautiful and eloquent from the crowd's reaction, but I can't focus enough to hear the exact words. Charlie doesn't say anything, as he was never much of a speaker, and Renée doesn't because she's full-blown crying now, the mascara running down her cheeks. One would think she'd have had the foresight to have worn the water-proof kind. I guess not. Esme is offered the chance and she gives a few words, something along the lines of, "Bella was a wonderful, sweet, daughter-in-law for the short time I knew her, and she died far before her time. We will all miss her deeply." Simple and to the point.

Edward opts to speak next. His voice is more collected and even than I would have given him credit for. "Bella was the love of my life. I loved her, and still do love her, with every fiber of my being. She was a beautiful person, both inside and out. An angel, who didn't deserve such a tragic, premature death. If there were any possible way, I would give my life up in exchange for hers, so that she could come back to us. I treasure the short time that I had with her, and I don't think I'll ever again be as happy as I was with her. She was my world and now..." His voice cracks then, but he continues on, persevering , "...I thank all of you for coming here today. It means a lot to my family and I. Though I'm sure Bella would not have liked such a fuss being made over her. She never did, never wanted anything in return for all her kindness. Giving without taking anything in return, and then going to far as to think herself selfish," he shakes his head and smiles weakly. "An extraordinary person...truly one in a million. Thank you." My lips curve upwards slightly. I couldn't have said it better myself.

* * *

The rest of the funeral is a blur. It was decided to cremate Bella's remains, though I'm not sure who came up with the idea. But the coffin is of metal, able to contain fire, so a flame is simply placed inside. The sight is gruesome, the flames, untamed, wild, licking at the too pale flesh, turning it charcoal, the bloody stains becoming monotonous ash. Only the bones resist, pure white fragments among the blaze. The lid is then shut to cut off the oxygen supply, and the funeral is concluded. Everyone is a given a chance to pass by the coffin again if they wish. Refreshments are served in the kitchen, wonderful and delicious, but no one is hungry.

I join Edward's who's sitting off to the side, staring into space. "Hey..." I greet, raising an arm in a half-wave, "Nice speech."

He looks up, dark eyes looking surprised, as if I have somehow snuck up on him.

"It was nothing," he mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall slightly. I join him, a foot or so to his left, looking forward, arms by my sides. An awkward silence ensues. The only sound is the garbled whispers of the other guests. I feel like I should say something but the words won't come, and smooth-talking, poetic Edward is likewise speechless. We simply stand together and know that, despite the lack of communication, we _understand_. We understand what the other is going through, word for word, supernatural powers aside. It's both awkward and comforting, more profoundly consoling than should be possible. The hard road ahead of us is forgotten for a moment, and there is silence, peace of mind. But eventually, guests come over, to give their condolences, and the brief peace is broken.

Should things ever be right again, the day will be long and hard in coming.


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm going to try and update every even month on the 25th...that will work out well, I think. Short-ish chapter =[ Sorry guys. I tried, but nothing longer happened, and I really wanted to get this to you today. Made it with an hour to spare. I'm too sleepy to think of excuses...**

**Everyone feels rather out of character to me, and I didnt' get around to proofreading, but I'm tired. Most of this has been sitting around for a couple weeks, anyway, so that part should be good. Currently, I doubt I'd find much so I'll check it over tomorrow or something. Maybe.**

**Anyway, I'll let you get to reading now. Enjoy (hopefully)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, or any of the characters...if I did...the books would have taken decades to come out...so be thankful. **

* * *

The funeral seems to drag on endlessly. Person after person walks up to me, to Edward, to everyone in the family, offering condolences, more often than not with tears in their eyes, and sobs fracturing their sentences. At first it's touching, that so many people knew and loved Bella, enough to not only attend her final ceremony, but to cry earnestly afterwards, broken, like the rest of us.

Yet as the minutes stretch into an hour, it becomes unbearable. I just want them to go home, go home and leave so that we can break down too, and no longer be forced to stand here, wet-eyed, but painfully composed, forced to hold back for just a bit longer, because _people are still here, _and they need some pillar of strength among this tragic chaos.

I'm sure everyone else feels likewise. Jasper looks ready to vomit from the profound sadness prevailing the assembly, and I don't blame him. Edward looks on the verge of a relapse. His limbs are beginning to shake, trembling like a small child after prolonged exposure to the elements. He looks so weak now, an adjective I had never before thought to describe him with, but it fits. Bella had integrated herself so fully into his being, his wall, the force holding him together, that when she suddenly died, disappeared, vanished, it crumbled to pieces, tiny little fragments, that were broken, and even if reformed, had lost so much they could never work quite the same again._ Never_.

Again, extreme pity overcomes me, pain so tangible it might as well be my own. While by no means cold or detached, I can't remember ever being this sympathetic of a person. But I'd never been in contact with someone in such great pain that I could relate so deeply with. I want to ask them to leave, ask all the mourners to just go and leave _him_, leave all of us, alone, because I know they're hurting, I can see it, but we don't need a share in anymore grief. We're already full to the brim, and anymore is just torture.

And finally, as if in response to my mental plea, the people begin to leave. Slowly, oh so slowly at first, they mumble and sob their adieus, before filing out the front door, a sluggish trickle, that despite my silent urging, will not move faster.

One of the female vampires, strawberry blonde, and beautiful like the rest, comes over to Edward as the last dregs are filing out. Only the rest of her coven is waiting patiently off to the side, and Charlie and Renée, along with the Clearwater's, are sitting in the living room, shell-shocked and numb.

The blonde latches onto Edward, latching onto him so tightly, that I almost fear he might break in his weakened state, although I know the notion is ridiculous. Still, he doesn't seem comfortable in her embrace, looking awkward of all things, as she buries her face into his chest momentarily. What she does next catches me off guard. She goes to kiss him, not just a friendly, soothing kiss on the cheek, but full on the mouth, wet and sloppy…or it would've been, but he turns away, face slightly, though unmistakably, disgusted.

Revulsion of my own flares up inside me. Who does she think she is? Kissing him like _that_, during the funeral of his _wife_, whom he had loved so much, beyond all words, and whom he had only married _weeks_beforehand? I vaguely remember her from the wedding now, a nameless blonde glowering in a vaguely disguised manner at Bella, obviously jealous. _What a _bitch, I think to myself, wanting to hit her for such utter disregard to Bella, just trying to replace her like that.

Edward stiffens as she runs a hand along his jaw line, before pushing her away, a look of something akin to horror mixing into his expression. "I'm sorry, Tanya, but I can't think of you that way, especially not now…don't. Please leave." A long silence.

"I'm sorry too, Edward, I shouldn't have," looking thoroughly affronted, though remorse is not entirely absent, she returns to her coven, and they make their final goodbyes, before leaving. I don't miss the reprimanding look one of the other females (another blonde) sends her way.

* * *

Charlie and the rest stay a bit longer, chatting with the Cullens in subdued tones. Renée's eyes are red rimmed, and her face looks pale and plain in the absence of the ruined make-up she had washed off. We're all in the living room, those who knew Bella best. Leah excused herself after the Denali coven, muttering something about the bloodsucker stench making her more nauseous than she already felt.

Edward's composure is failing rapidly. He's sitting on the couch, legs tucked under him, arms tightly over his chest, as if trying to hold himself together, but he's failing miserably. We can all see it.

"Edward, honey," Esme whispers from beside him, smoothing his hair placatingly. "You're welcome to leave if you want. You need to take it easy…" She sounds as if she's talking to a physically ill person. But perhaps he is. Grief has been known to kill people, and although vampires are immortal, it must have some effect. Can vampires get sick?

Wordlessly, he gets up, and walks out of the room, upstairs no doubt. To do what? Sit alone in grieving solitude? Wallow in a puddle of his own depression? That can't be healthy…

"_You're the only one who can even begin to understand…"_

Would he want to talk now? Why would he want to talk to me, of all people? He has his whole family to talk to, Alice, Esme, Carlisle, Jasper, Emmett…even Rosalie. He's been with them for years and years. Don't they know him best; know how to cheer him up…?

"…_you loved her, did you not?"_

True, I did love Bella, and still do, even if death has taken her away form me, from both of us. Even though it must be worse for him—as he actually _had_ her, wasn't just chasing after her like some lovesick fool—I can fathom how deeply he's hurting, but…

"…_you remind me of Bella."_

Wouldn't my presence just be a reminder of her, the one person in the world he had ever loved in such a way, and the fact that she's_ dead?_ Still...there must be something I can do.

Sighing, I get to my feet, following Edward's path out of the room to the accompaniment of bemused glances.

* * *

"What?" I hear from the other side of the door. It isn't the snide, rude tone one would expect but something softer, somehow kinder, and weary, very weary. I sigh, lowering my hand from its raised position.

"It's me, Jacob, do you want to talk?" Silence. I'm just about to make my way back downstairs—I guess he didn't want to talk after all—when I hear a rustle of cloth and soft, light footsteps from inside the room. Another pause, and then the lock clicks open, wood pulled aside to reveal a pale face, the eyes dark, very dark, with deep shadows underneath.

"Hey," I greet lamely, at a sudden loss for words. He smiles weakly and moves aside, opening the door wider. I take it as an invitation and enter, looking around. It's spacious, clearly so, just like the rest of the house. One whole wall is covered in CDs, their cases making a multi-colored collage against the black shelving. There is no bed, something I find rather odd until I remember that vampires don't sleep.

Most of the available seating is covered with various books, splayed about near haphazardly, though I get the feel that to him it is a messy organization. Spotting the desk chair, clear of clutter, I make my way over to it, sitting down, looking over at him expectantly. He's gazing out the gigantic windows blankly, with that lost look he seems to be favoring lately clearly saturating his features. The last rays of sunlight catch his skin, giving it the false appearance of color in its glimmer, a pale orange-rose. As he stands there, still, very still, surveying the dying sunlight and the darkness creeping into the trees and over the grass, he looks almost...beautiful. Sad, very sad, but...

He moves, flicking on a light switch to chase out the gathering shadows, before walking over to a small couch of some sort. Pushing aside some books, he perches on the arm, crossing his arms on top of his knees, and resting his head on them. His eyes are strangely curious as they look up at me.

"So…what is it you want to talk about?" His voice is quiet, very quiet, but not as broken as I had anticipated. What should I say? I hadn't come up here with an idea, something to talk to him about. I had expected him to provide a topic…but...

"You said that I remind you of her…right?" A nod. Running a hand through my hair—or at least the bits that had escaped the elastic, the rest was still stubbornly in place—I look up at him, watching his expression. "Why did you say that like it was a good thing? Doesn't it…bother you?"

Silence. A deep breath and then, "Yes, and no. It hurts, but…it also helps me remember how happy I was with her, before all this..." He trails off, glancing away from me. "Yet then I think of how I'll never see her again and…I-" His voice becomes oddly choked, and he buries his head in his arms, shaking again, as he had before. It takes me a minute to realize he is crying. Crying without tears, the only way vampires can.

Hesitantly, I get up, walking over to him, placing my hand on his shoulder, trying to present comfort. But it doesn't feel like enough. Awkwardly, I place my arms around his shaking form, pushing aside the assorted junk as best I can, taking a seat beside him. It's strange, very strange, much stranger than last time in the forest. In my human form, it feels oddly more _intimate—_ugh. I try not to pull away at the thought.

Yet, there is one positive thing. Whether from over exposure, or a worse sense of smell than my wolf counterpart, the stench is no where near as bad as it was before. I must be getting used to it. Ugh…getting used to _the bloodsucker_…to _comforting the bloodsucker_.

He's stilling now, the shaking subduing, his breath—unnecessary, mind you—evening out. Absently, I let him pull away as he straightens up, not looking at me, wrists moving across his eyes, scrubbing away nonexistent tears.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, still refusing to meet my eyes. "I keep doing this…I wish I could stop. And you, Jacob…you must be as upset as I am. To act like I'm the only one torn up, it's selfish…" His fist is curled, and if he were human I'm the knuckles would be "white" with the tension, though as he is a vampire, they are already bloodless.

"Edward," I hear myself saying his name, before I can think properly, and it sounds odd, even to my own ears. But it gets him to look at me, allowing me to see the self-hate flooding his irises, dark irises, so dark, they can no longer be distinguished from the pupil. He really needs blood...

"It's fine, alright? It's ok. Really." I feel like I should say something more, but have no clue what. "Don't keep beating yourself up about this…you have enough problems as is, stupid vamp..."

My last comment earns a laugh, much to my surprise. He smiles, just slightly, just enough to show his teeth_—_sharp, feral, protruding slightly over his pale lip. "The smell must be terrible though, right? Yuck, bloodsucker."

"I needed a shower anyway," I reply, and it strikes me then just how odd it is that we're _joking_ now, after that whole episode.

But then it's silent, very silent, though not a sad, haunting silence as so many of them have been recently. It's full, and calm and almost…_content_._ Happy_.

And then he's back in his own little world, his personal cloud of misery. Staring vacantly at nothing in particular, his expression neutrally cheerless once more. Sighing, I get to my feet, clapping him once on the shoulder, and bidding him goodnight.

Once outside, I sniff my shirt, wincing slightly at the odor. Maybe I_ should_ take that shower.


	5. Chapter 5

**Kind of short chapter, but I've been busy dealing with exams, and last minute projects and coursework. Plus I think I'm coming down with something...I have a splitting headache. Gah. **

**Anyway, kind of lame chapter, in addition to its shortness, but I hope you guys can get some pleasure from it. Hopefully next chapter will be better, and I'm out of school now, so I might update sooner. No promises, though. **

**Warning: un-proof read...I'll get to it maybe...I just want it up, at the moment.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, or any of it's characters. Or either of the two movies mentioned and their respective characters.**

* * *

When I finally drag myself out of bed and stumble into the living room, hair mussed and a frumpy t-shirt pulled on to complement my sleep pants, it's to find Edward lying on the couch, curled slightly on one side, staring blankly at the TV screen. He appears to be watching some sort of sitcom or something, and, as amusing a fact as that is, I barely register it as I flop down on the adjacent seating.

He nods vaguely to me in acknowledgement, seemingly caught up in whatever ridiculous drama he's watching. It is then that I notice it: a bag, the corner between his lips, a pale hand holding the rest of it steady. Clear, roughly the size of my two hands lined up beside each other, half drained of a dark reddish liquid.

Blood, I realize with a cringe, my stomach churning with the beginnings of slight nausea.

Evidently becoming aware of my unease, Edward glances down at the bag in his hand absently. "Oh, this," even if he's turned away from me, I can hear the wry smile in his voice. "Apparently I am still too…unstable to be allowed out to hunt. And it was becoming quite the…necessity."

He looks up at me then, and I freeze, a sharp intake of breath passing my lips. The dark black of his eyes is mixing with another, lighter color. But it's not the golden hue I'm familiar with. Rather a deep red wine, swirling into the dark depths. Blood red, a sign of…human blood.

"That bad?" he intends the words as a joke, but his face shows the pain, the hurt, such a common emotion for him these days. Sighing, he pulls himself into a sitting position, loosely cross-legged. "It will go away again…once I start…once I'm back to normal…it will go away…"

He seems to be talking more to himself than to me, his face still turned away. His hair is disheveled as usual, his skin a normal pallor now. From this angle he looks normal, usual…nothing like he has the past few weeks.

I simply nod and get up, making my way into the kitchen. It's too early to deal with this, not even past breakfast.

Esme is making something, mouth-watering as always. Eggs of some sort I guess, as the tantalizing aroma reaches my nose. I hate to impose on her but she says it's no trouble. Being vampires and all, the Cullens don't eat normal human food, and so it's not often that she can put her talent to use. So, whatever, as long as she doesn't mind. The food is amazing.

"Good morning, Jacob," she smiles, pale flesh dimpling slightly at the corners. Sometimes it's hard to remember that she's actually a vampire, she seems so kind and normal and _human_. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, thanks," I mumble out, still foggy. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet I look through the refrigerator lethargically, pulling out a carton of orange juice and filling the cup before returning the container. The glass is cold in my hand, as I take it to the table sitting silently, a yawn escaping my lips.

"Don't be too hard on him," Esme whispers softly, placing a plate in front of me. Scrambled eggs with various spices mixed in—they smell delicious, to put it mildly. "It's not his fault. He wanted to go hunting himself but…Carlisle thought it best to give him sometime before he's allowed out of our sight."

I nod in vague agreement, forking the food into my mouth. The taste is impossible to put into words…something past wonderful and on the road towards perfect.

"I think Alice was planning on taking him with her and Jasper to the movies or something today," she states, running the pan under the faucet. Is she implying what I think she is?

"You're welcome to go if you want to…the more the merrier."

As I thought. Finishing off the last of my eggs, I join Esme at the sink. I move to rinse the plate off myself, but she waves a sudsy hand, that same motherly smile back in place. "I'll take care of it, Jacob. Why don't you go along with them? It will be fun."

"Why not?" I mutter more to myself than to her, placing my dishes on the counter. "Thanks for breakfast, Mrs. Cullen. Delicious as always."

"You're quite welcome, Jacob," Esme applies soap to the pan, scrubbing with an oversized green sponge. "Have fun at the movies."

She seems oddly insistent. I wonder why? But whatever, might as well go along with it.

When I reenter the living room, Alice is perched on the couch next to Edward, Jasper on her right. She's chirping excitedly about something or other, and it takes me a minute to realize it's the movie. _Star Trek_ from the sound of it.

"The special effects are supposed to be amazing!" her golden eyes glitter with excitement as she babbles at Edward, who's blandly staring at the television screen, not really paying attention to either his adoptive sister or the sitcom.

I can tell she's trying her hardest to cheer him up, that the excitement is obviously faked. Is it really worth trying to fake enthusiasm in front of him, when he can read thoughts and tell whether you really mean it or not? Seems rather useless, really, but it's the effort that counts, right?

"Hey, shortie," I greet, lifting my hand in a half wave.

Pausing mid-rant, she glances over, the grin on her face overly cheerful and edging towards manic. "Hi, Jacob. Are you coming with us?"

"Sure I guess. _Star Trek_, right?"

"Yep," she confirms, taking Jasper's hand in her right, Edward's in her left, and gleefully making her way towards the door. The latter allows himself to be dragged aimlessly, just taking enough care not to trip over anything. His face remains carefully blank as he slips on his shoes. If only I were the mind reader—there's no way to tell what he's thinking.

It's then I realize I'm still in my sleepwear. "Be right back," I call over my shoulder, sprinting up the stairs to get dressed. Two minutes later, I return, now in jeans and a selectively random t-shirt, a simple dark red.

The three of them are outside, waiting in Edward's silver Volvo, Jasper in the driver's seat. Slipping into the back next to Edward, I slam the door and we drive off.

* * *

The movie is amazing. I've never really been one for science fiction, but the special effects are flawless, and what's not to love about an action packed battle between two giant space ships, with all the shooting? And the girl, whatever her name was—Uhura, I think Alice later said—was pretty hot. Fighting and hot chicks…great combo.

I glanced over at Edward a couple times during the film. He seemed pretty ok, looking up at the screen, eyes animated with actual interest for once. The bags are gone from beneath his eyes, and the red isn't distinguishable as color in the darkness.

It's been so long since the last time he actually looked alive, not like some dead, possessed zombie. Though I suppose he really is dead…but that's beside the point.

When the credits finally role, amid the clapping and cheering of the audience—I never really got why exactly people clap after a movie, it's not like the cast can hear them—he actually looks happy. Not forced, mandatory, trying-not-to-make-others worry happy, but actually smiling, semi-_relaxed_ happy. It might not last, but it's a big improvement, very big. A step, finally, in the right direction.

* * *

We arrive home at around five or so. On Alice's whim we had stayed to watch another movie, _The Proposal_, a silly little romantic comedy. Fairly amusing, good for the laughs we all definitely need.

But towards the end, when the humor had been left behind and replaced with the sappy, cheesy romance bit, Edward had gotten a bit of his former sadness back. I could see it in the way he watched the events, so carefully, so closely, with such a sense of knowing in his gaze, of nostalgia. Like he was remembering what it felt like to love and be loved, and being filled with pain all over again, because Bella, the one he had cared so much for was gone, and was never coming back. Never again would he kiss her as the unlikely pair in the movie kissed, never again would he even have a chance to screw it up, and make a mess of things, before rushing back to her with an apology, hushing her tears, and letting her know everything would be ok. She was gone, really, truly gone. Forever...

When did I get so sappy and junk? Honestly, I sound like an idiot.

At the end, his face was carefully composed again, just a hint of his previous light-hearted countenance remaining, mixed with simply a dash of his returning sadness.

There we go again…sappiness galore…

But back to the present. Seth is sitting in the kitchen, eating something that Esme, no doubt, made. Another plate sits beside him, and Esme gestures, indicating it's for me.

Edward looks longingly at the food, and then walks away, out of the kitchen, presumably up to his room. I wonder if he misses being able to eat, being human. Being able to die a after a normal lifespan when he no longer has a reason to live, more like. How dull does life get, when you can live forever? How much does it hurt to see people you care about die and die…right before your eyes, leaving you all alone?

And now Bella's gone, the one true love he had found after all these years.

I bet he's never felt lonelier.


	6. HIATUS NOTICE!

Hey guys…bad news. I'm going to put this story on hiatus for awhile, for a couple of different reasons:

1) I don't really have any ideas on what to write…I don't have an ending in mind…I don't really even have a plot in mind, so it's useless for me to write when I don't know where I'm going with it. I came up with the beginning of this story, and the basic concept and posted it without finishing off the plot so...not the brightest move on my part.

2) My friend and I are brainstorming currently, and have a good story idea (for Hetalia) so I'll be fully concentrating on writing that once I'm done with Fading Flames.

3) School's starting up again in less than a month. That being said, I doubt I'll have much time during school to write, and I need to finish my summer reading. I have two books, one of which is hopelessly boring, and I'm kind of pressed for time on that.

I'm sorry guys. I might continue this when my muse comes back granted I can think of some good ideas and find the time, but until then, you guys will just have to be patient. Any ideas you have would be welcome. Thank you for reading.


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